Archive of Our Own ^beta

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DIRECTORY

I. "Beginning" > First Meeting: Welcome to the Citadel!

II. "Same" > Master and Sword: Nothing more...or is there?

III. "Sweet Every Things" > Denial Subsides: Meet him halfway.

IV. "Off Guard" > Interruption: He admits you caught him off guard.

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    Calm. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Fingers are shaking in excitement and nervousness. It's almost ready. You had spent the whole week gathering resources and smithing this delicate sword. All that needs to be done is to place this paper-cut-out-child with your signature on it. You hold the paper carefully in your hands, and make a wish, pressing your lips gently on it. The paper is now on the blade of the sword.

    It flutters its paper wings before stopping altogether.

   You stare at it for two full seconds. Is it not working? You step away from the sword to make preparations for a second trial—

     There's a sudden flash of light, so blinding that you raise your arms to shield your eyes. It's close to midnight, so you squint to adjust your eyes to the bright, electric light radiating from the sword.

     Blue and sharp.

     The light from the fire crackles in the background of the smithing room, and there is a burst of sakura petals; they float around the room in an elegant dance, carrying the burning light from the fire and the blue emitting from the sword. The view is captivating, but it's not the sakura petals that catch your full attention. 

     A tall, confident figure appears within the midst of the petals. A relaxed hand is on his exceptionally crafted sword.

     The gold shimmers.

     He clenches the hilt as he takes notice of you, standing in the middle of the room with your mouth agape.

     He's beautiful.

     His dark hair—you weren't sure if it was dark brown or black—frames his long face and ends with a loose pony tail tied with a white fabric in the shape of a bow, which is quite endearing. Sharp, commanding ruby eyes meet yours.

     His voice immediately breaks you out of your trance.

     "Uhh. I'm the child beneath the river. Kashuu Kiyomitsu. I may be difficult to handle, but my performance is good."

     "It's nice to meet you, Kiyomitsu-san," you eagerly greet him with a giddy grin—the summoning worked! "My name is (y/n), a beginner saniwa but I'll do my ultimate best! Welcome to the Citadel!"

     He chuckles at your proclaim and nods in agreement. A beginner saniwa, huh? Nothing like his original master at all. Despite that, he's glad that he's summoned into this human form. He hopes to be of use to you. 

     He hopes to be treasured, and most of all, loved.

     His eyes flicker up and down at your appearance. He makes a displeased sound with his tongue at his findings. Your hair is beyond messy. Stray hairs poke out from your unkept pony tail—loose on the back of your neck but pulled up tightly on the top by your hair tie. And your attire? A loose fitted t-shirt with a solid color pair of shorts. You notice him staring at your shorts for a full two seconds.

     Hey, it's your quick pajamas. Home clothes! You shouldn't feel embarrassed, but you do. Compared to his attire...

     You can feel your face heating up, heart beating faster and faster as he analyzes your reaction. He offers an amused smile...or was that a smirk? His uniform is crisp and clean. The dark color palette matches his features. He walks past you in quick strides to which you turn your body to his direction. Where is he going?

     He doesn't leave the room.

     Kiyomitsu stops in his tracks once he's behind you, holds both of your shoulders to face your body forward, and then pulls your hair tie loose. Strands of tangled hair fall down, ruining your efforts to hide the bundled mess of a bird's nest. Your hands reach to cover and to pull back your hair into a pony tail, but your hands touch his. Instantly, there's a zap of electricity. A tingly sharp feeling that lasts for less than a second. A millisecond. He feels it too, by the way he cautiously steps back with bewilderment written all over his face, trying to understand what just happened. After all, it's only been a few minutes since he was 'born'.

     After deeming the zap as harmless, he steps forward.

     "What are you doing?" you inquire. It's late at night. Tying your hair neatly into a pony tail would be a waste, since you would let it loose before going to bed. Might as well put it up in a quick bun...

     He hums in a low voice, and brushes through your hair with gentle digits as he detangles the bird's nest. "You should brush your hair more often, Aruji."

     He states the obvious. You know you should. A feeling of mortification sweeps through you. What could you do, really? You don't have enough time to worry or even care about your appearance. History is literally on top of your shoulders. 

     "I spent the whole week gathering resources and preparing for this—you. It wasn't easy," you mumble, looking down at the floor.

     Flames are still flickering and crackling. Sakura petals have already descended to the floor. His fingers keep threading through your hair. He carefully digs his finger nails as gentle as he can to massage your scalp. Rake through. Rake through. It's a soothing feeling. You start to lean into his touch but hold back. 

     This is not...how a master should behave. You calm your nerves, and recompose yourself. There are things needed to be done. Things that need to be prepared. You finger the bell with his insignia in your hands. 

     "Thank you..." Kiyomitsu says after a while, breaking the silence. The wood in the oven cracks. A flare of fire surges out from the opening. The room is now brighter, and you take a quick peak at his face.

     A faint smile grazes across his lips.

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   "We're just master and sword," you blurt out quickly, scooting yourself away from him. Kiyomitsu advances closer, enjoying the innocence in your wide eyes. Your lips purse. He leaves you with no time to speak. He loves your vulnerable side as much as any other, especially the way you react to his mindless teasing. Quick pecks of affection. 

    He's beyond affectionate, you note to yourself as you keep your eyes focused on a cerulean vase across the room, worried that if you make eye contact with those ruby eyes, you'd fall deeper and deeper. Reality tugs at you to remind you of your differences.

     Sword and human. Human and sword. Was it right for a sage to even seek this from a sword? 

    He doesn't care.

    Kiyomitsu greets you in the morning right after you finish washing up, and holds your hand, talking about his latest interest in this particular shade of red nail polish as you both walk to the breakfast room. "Am I cute today?" You always eagerly nod and squeeze his hand. He beams in delight, almost childishly. You have a habit of glancing down at his painted nails—perfectly painted as always. Once, you noticed a chip of paint, he panicked and yanked his hand from your grasp to replace it with the other. He hid his hand with the chipped paint in his kimono, and hastily changed the subject. 

    He has tendencies to capture your attention with just about anything. An accidental brush of the shoulders. You'd look back and raise an eyebrow to which he smiles innocently. "Yes, Aruji?" And when he takes a seat next to you to whisper in your ear while the other swords are drinking happily away, he'd speak slowly. Words flow like mellifluous honey. When he's finished, he'd blow air in your ear and you'd jump in surprise. The other swords would abruptly stop laughing and question you, clearly startled from your yelp. You'd flush and shake your head, giving Kiyomitsu a nudge with your foot under the table. He lets out a chuckle, and the other swords look at him suspiciously. "Nothing happened! Nothing happened!" 

    Physical affection is what he desires the most. 

    He smirks knowingly. Lazy eyes close as he cups your cheek in one hand and the other rests on the back of your head. You don't complain, and he takes it as a sign to continue.

    Finger nails trace circles. Flowers are blossoming, and he tells you that you are beautiful. He tells you that he loves you.

    You are silent and speechless every time. 

    During. 

    After. 

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    "Master, am I cute today?" Kiyomitsu tugs at your sleeve, trying to get your attention. He fans himself with his other hand. The room seems to be getting hot. You nod, still staring at the television screen with your favorite show on. He frowns, clearly displeased at the lack of attention you're giving him.

    What attention?

    Correction. None. 

    You pour yourself another cup of sake, and refill Kiyomitsu's before returning back to the tv. He drinks the cup all in one shot, and obediently watches the tv show with you for another hour. 

    And another ten minutes.

    He's tired of waiting. Kiyomitsu sighs and buries the crook of his nose into your neck. He feels you shiver for the slightest second.

    Kiyomitsu knows.

    He knows too much. More than he should know. You press your lips together, trying to hold back that irking, ticklish feeling. The more you think about it—and Kiyomitsu's warm breath blanketing the side of your neck—the more you start to squirm in discomfort. Kiyomitsu smiles in triumph, and nips at your neck. Gently. Slowly. You don't have a reaction to that or perhaps you're holding it in. 

    He thinks you hold in more than you should. 

    The tv show is almost ending. 

    It takes about five seconds before your willpower disperses. He's going too far with the affection, grazing his teeth on—

    "KIYOMITSU!" you exclaim in a high pitched voice. He's caught off guard and lets out a surprised yelp as you push his shoulders away with both hands. He loses balance quite easily and falls back onto the couch. Your hands are still on his shoulders. He looks speechless and flustered by the position you both are in. One knee propped onto the inner couch and your other leg steadying yourself on the wooden floor. He considers this as "straddling", something he would never go as far to do despite his love for teasing you. He feels dizzy and light headed.

    You don't take notice of this inappropriate position, and proceed to scold him. 

    "Kashuu Kiyomitsu," you say, pronouncing his name with each syllable. Just saying his full name, makes his heart skip a beat. His eyes widens. It's cliche. He's obviously not thinking straight. He knows. He shouldn't have accepted that extra cup of sake.

    You're close to him. You are almost pressed down onto his chest. There's a small gap between you and him, and if he lifts his head just a bit, he could—

    "I've been waiting to finish this show for a while, Kiyomitsu. And...you know how I don't like it when you...do that. I'll hang out with you for the rest of the day after I finish the show. It's a good thing I don't have much work this week! Kiyomitsu?"

    He suddenly hears your voice loud and clear. And then it's all white noise.

    His thoughts are interrupted, but your lips are still in reach, almost as if they were taunting him. He stares intently at them. He could taste it now. 

    The sweet juice of dragon eye fruit left on your lips just a few minutes ago lingers. Maybe even a hint of sake from earlier. He wants to taste it all. As greedy as it sounds, he wants to be the only one to do so. 

    Why isn't he only yours? Why does he have to share you with the others? It's duty. He's supposed to be obedient. He's supposed to follow all of your orders. And that includes getting along with others. 

    You take pride in duty. It's understandable, yet not understandable at the same time to him. He does not want to admit that he's in the wrong for wanting to be the only one for your affection and love and desire and—

    He sneaks his hands behind your neck, clumsily pulling you down. 

    Kiyomitsu seals them. Nibbling your bottom lip and tugging at it, he hums in delight. He hears you gasp, tightening your hold on his shoulders.

    As he pulls back and licks his lips, he feels pleased but that feeling doesn't last. You stare at him, not moving. Not responding. Like always. He knows you're conflicted about your relationship with him. And this doesn't help at all.

    He tells you again, whispering sweet nothings (sweet every things) into your ear. He feels you clench the fabric of his kimono, and you look into his eyes. You meet him halfway this time.

    You can't deny it anymore. 

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i'm not proud of this chapter so i'll rewrite it